Crossroads
by Chapin CSI
Summary: It's the end of an era as the Enterprise returns from its five-year mission. As the crew prepares to go their separate ways, Dr. McCoy makes one last effort to keep Jim from making the worst mistake of his life. Bones & Kirk friendship.


It's the end of an era as the Enterprise returns from its five-year mission. Jim and the rest of the crew get a hero's welcome, deservedly so. But not everybody's happy. Now, as the crew prepare to go their separate ways, Dr. 'Bones' McCoy makes one last effort to save Jim Kirk's soul.

* * *

The dress uniform was neatly laid on the bed. Jim Kirk, having finished his shave, picked it up the trousers.

"...Uhura's going back to school by the way," he said. "There are more languages to be learned, apparently. I told her she should apply for command, but she said she preferred to stick to communications. Oh, and Scotty -"

He chatted away as he changed into his dress uniform, while the other man in the room, heeding Jim's offer of a drink, poured himself a second brandy. Doctor McCoy was hardly paying any attention to Jim; he already knew what his fellow officers were planning to do and besides, he had the feeling that Jim was only talking to fill in the silence.

It wasn't until Jim put on his tunic that McCoy spoke at last.

"So, it's official. You're an Admiral now."

"Not yet," Jim said, pausing to look in the mirror.

McCoy looked too. Five years in space had left their mark on Jim. The good looks were still there, but tempered by a new maturity and a certain sadness. Exhaustion, too. _That's what five years as a Captain did to you,_ McCoy thought wearily.

Five years in space could kill a man's soul.

McCoy leant back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

"You can close the blinds, if you want," Jim said, "I still can't get used to that light yet either."

McCoy opened his eyes. It took him a moment to realize Jim had misunderstood. Sunlight was pouring in through the blinds; a harsher light than they were used to, sure, but not enough to bother him. Still, closing the blinds gave him something to do, and so he dutifully rose. He threw a casual glance just before he closed the blinds and noticed someone standing in the gardens. A lanky man, easily recognizable even from the seventh floor. Spock. He seemed to be basking in the sun.

Behind him, Jim cleared his throat.

"I'm glad you're here, Bones," he said. When the Doctor turned, he added, "I know you didn't approve my promotion."

"And I still don't."

It was true; he'd opposed it, and quite vociferously too. He'd assessed Jim Kirk with the cool detachment of a professional and then rendered a diagnosis: Jim Kirk needed a challenge; something to fill the feeling of emptiness that would surely follow the ending of his five-year mission. Instead, they were giving him the equivalent of a bureaucratic job -prestigious, yes, but a crock nonetheless. 'A gross misuse of resources' was how McCoy had put it, actually. He could use the lingo when it was necessary.

And now Jim was looking at him, obviously waiting for an explanation.

McCoy avoided the issue by glancing outside again.

"Spock doesn't mind the sun," he said. Jim didn't reply. McCoy closed the blinds. "What does he say of all this?"

"We haven't really talked," Jim said.

McCoy didn't believe that for a second.

"Maybe he talked and you pretended not to hear," he said pointedly. He paused for a moment. "Listen, Jim. I know this is rather personal, but how are things between you two?"

Jim didn't immediately reply. He glanced at the window, as if he could see Spock from where he stood.

"We never made any promises, Bones. What we had... It was great while it lasted. He _helped_ me; I don't think I could have made it without him, but -"

"But you don't love him."

"I do," Jim said. He frowned, as if he'd never really considered the matter before. "I love Spock… I love him as much as I can ever love anybody."

"Not much, then," Bones said sarcastically.

Jim sat on the edge of the bed.

"Come on, Bones. You know me. Do you see me living quietly in some Vulcan community, or doing science reports in some remote planet?"

"Is that what he wants you to do?"

"We haven't really talked about it."

"Well, I don't think you need to say anything. From what I hear, you've made things very clear to him already. You've been introducing him to the young Vulcans working at the Embassy, haven't you? Good God, Jim! Do you really think he's gonna develop a relationship with one of them?"

Jim sighed.

"I want him to be happy," he said. When McCoy didn't reply, he leant forward. "Bones? I want him to be happy."

McCoy didn't reply. He was thinking how Jim had conveniently forgotten that Vulcans didn't hop from one lover to another, and that for Spock, this relationship had probably been his one and only chance at happiness.

The poor, pointy-eared bastard.

"He's not going back to the Academy, is he?"

Jim shook his head. "He's rejected every offer made to him. He doesn't want to be a Captain, he doesn't want his old teaching job back..." He paused for a moment. "Sometimes I get the feeling he wants to be anywhere but here."

"Hell, I don't blame him. _I'd_ rather be anywhere but here too."

"You're not serious."

"Oh, aren't I? For your information, I've got a one-way ticket to Kentucky in my pocket, 'to be used at my earliest convenience'. A train ticket, mind you; I'm not flying ever again, if I can help it. And if I don't see a starship again, I'll call myself lucky."

"Bones -"

"I mean it. I'm burned out, Jim," he said tiredly. "I told you a month ago, I told you a week ago –I've been telling you, but you won't listen." Gently, he added. "I can't stay. I won't."

"You can't just quit, Bones," Jim replied dismissively. "There are procedures to follow, a contract to fulfill. Officially, you're still a part of Starfleet."

"…a gangrenous part of Starfleet," McCoy muttered despondently. "I doubt I can be any good to them."

"You're wrong. What about the knowledge you acquired these past years? You have a duty to share it."

"Oh, so now that you're an Admiral you're gonna play the 'give back to Starfleet' card with me?"

"I'm not an Admiral yet," Jim said patiently. "Come on, Bones," he added, motioning McCoy to take a seat. McCoy hesitated, then took a seat opposite Jim.

"I know you're tired," Jim said gently, "Everybody is. Overwhelmed, too. But we've got to go on, Bones. I'm asking you, as a friend, to stay. We need you. There are new recruits; new medical students who could benefit from your experience. You gotta tell them what you know."

McCoy scoffed. "Jim, if I told them what I know, they'd end up giving up medical school altogether. They certainly wouldn't enroll in Starfleet."

Jim frowned. "Come on," he said. "It wasn't that bad." When McCoy didn't reply, he frowned. "Bones? It wasn't that bad."

Jim needed reassurance and for once, the Doctor couldn't give it.

McCoy sighed. "Ah, Jim. You wouldn't understand -"

"Try me."

McCoy didn't immediately speak. He needed to choose his words with care.

"Do you know why you were such a good Captain, Jim?" he said at last. "Apart from the obvious qualifications, that is? You were able to see the Enterprise as a living entity; the sum of its parts. Now, take someone like me –or better yet, take someone like Spock," and he tilted his head in the window's direction. "He's as disciplined as you, but deep down, he resembles _me._ He does," he insisted, just as Jim was about to object. "He didn't see the Enterprise as the sum of its parts. He certainly didn't see the planets we discovered as units we had to bring into the Federation.

"He agonized over every decision we ever made, Jim. He knew everything we did was having an effect on those planets. The truth is, we _destroyed_ something in each one of them; yes," he added before Jim could interrupt. "Even as we saved them. It was for the greater good, of course, but my point is, there was a conflict there. But that was Spock's conflict," he added. "We're talking about me, right?" He paused for a moment. "Do you know what the top commanders said when they read my report, Jim? They said: 'Fifty lives lost in a crew of five-hundred. That is highly acceptable.' _Acceptable_,_" _he repeated bitterly. "They were looking at the Enterprise as the sum of its parts, too!"

Jim looked up. "Wait a fucking minute," he said, showing anger for the first time. "If you think I didn't agonize over the deaths of _my_ men -"

"No," McCoy said gently. "That's not what I meant. I know you cared, and if you could have avoided even one death, you would have. What I'm trying to say is that, in the end, fifty is only a number. And yes, it _is_ acceptable. Entire crews have been lost in space -hell, _we_ could have died a dozen times over if it hadn't been for you. But I'm talking about those fifty people, Jim. They're not a number to me. I knew them. You probably had a nodding acquaintance with them, but _I_ did their monthly check-ups. I don't just remember their faces; I remember their voices as they thanked me for patching them up so they could go back on duty. There were times when I was practically sending them to their deaths!"

"Bones." Jim put a reassuring hand on McCoy's arm. "Don't do this to yourself."

McCoy didn't acknowledge Jim's attempt at comfort.

"Did you know ships used to carry priests, back in the old days? Religion means little to us now, but priests did serve a purpose. They were there to comfort people. Humans need someone to tell their troubles to, Jim; and in the Enterprise, I was the closest thing to a priest. Those kids used to tell me all sort of things during their monthly check-ups. They told me their dreams and their fears. Did you know that Ensign Lopez had a girlfriend waiting for him in San Francisco?" he paused, though he didn't really expected Jim to respond.

"Ensign Colbert dreamed of teaching," he said softly, "He used his free time to study History. I can tell you what each of those fifty people wanted to do when they returned, Jim. Their eyes lit up when they told me about it! When I think of the way they died -" He gulped, then shook his head angrily. "Sorry, Jim. You don't need this right now."

"It's ok," Jim said patiently. "Go ahead; you can tell me anything. " He was silent for a moment. "I know I made mistakes."

"I'm not blaming you, goddammit! You did what you had to do; you did a better job than anybody would have!" He took a deep breath. Calmer now, he added, "And that's why I think you're making a mistake by taking the promotion. You belong up there, in space, not here, behind a desk."

Jim was shaking his head even before McCoy finished. "I'm too tired to go back," he said softly.

"So, take a rest!" He reached for Jim's arm. "Listen. I'm serious here. As a friend; as your doctor –hell, as the closest thing to a priest you'll ever know -"

"Bones -"

"Don't take this job."

"I owe them," Jim said simply. When McCoy rolled his eyes, he added, "Look, it's easy for you to leave; you can go to Kentucky to tend people's illnesses. Even Spock has enough specialties to ensure he's useful anywhere he goes -"

"So do you," McCoy retorted. "You can get a job anywhere in the galaxy. There's a shortage of leaders in the Morgana Sector right now. Go there. Get yourself a freight ship -any vessel will do, Jim. Just…Don't do this. Being Admiral is gonna crush your soul."

"Thanks for the optimism," Jim said sarcastically. "Has it ever occurred to you that I can make some good in the Federation?"

McCoy didn't reply. He finished his drink, then rose to get a refill.

"I want to do good, Bones."

McCoy poured two drinks this time. He handed a glass to Jim.

The silence seemed to bother Jim.

"And here I was hoping you'd help me convince Spock to stay."

McCoy snorted.

"I don't think anyone can do that, Jim. Maybe not even you. Spock's disenchantment with the Federation started long ago, with the Copernicus incident."

Jim drowned his drink in one gulp.

"Yes," he said, "The Copernicus incident."

Everybody had their breaking point. Even Spock.

Eight months before, on a routine visit to Copernicus, they'd come upon the worst case of child exploitation they'd seen in years. Children from the ages of five to thirteen were kept in a basement, working in deplorable conditions for a local jeweler. A terrible case for them to handle, but for Spock the situation had turned personal when they found the Vulcan kids. Kidnapped when they were only babies, the three children had never seen another Vulcan; in fact, they'd been led to believe they'd been abandoned due to their physical 'deformities'. Their innate intelligence made them excellent workers, but even this hadn't made their lives easier. Mistreated by all, even by the other kids, the little Vulcans could only draw comfort from each other.

They'd been understandably elated when they saw Spock. To them, the Vulcan Commander was a savior; an avenging angel who'd reacted with more emotion than logic and would have gladly destroyed the factory if Jim Kirk hadn't intervened. As it was, several factory employees had to be rushed to the hospital after an encounter with the enraged Vulcan.

"The Federation let him down, Jim," McCoy said. "They let _us_ down. Those monsters ruined the lives of dozens of kids; they deserved a jail sentence for what they did. Instead, they were given a fine. A _fine_, for God's sake! They said the community's economy depended on the factories –what a crock! We both know why the Federation didn't put their sorry asses in jail: Copernicus has a rich streak of Dilithium."

"Look," Jim said, "You're right; the Federation screwed up. But you can't bring change by fleeing to other planets –or to Kentucky. You've got to stay here."

McCoy paused.

"So, now you're saying you accepted this promotion so you can work on the inside," he said skeptically. He stared at Jim for a moment. "You really think you can make a difference, Jim?"

"I can try," Jim said simply. "There's really nothing else for me to do."

Bones shook his head.

"So you keep saying." He was silent for a moment. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said, gently this time.

They were silent for a moment.

"You do understand why I can't stay, don't you?"

Jim shook his head.

"I do. Partly. But I really wish you'd stay. I'm gonna need some real friends."

"Sorry, Jimbo. My job here is done. I handed my reports and my recommendations to Starfleet; Christine can supply the rest." He paused for a couple of seconds, then rose. "Jim, it was an honor." He held out his hand.

Jim rose too but refused to shake hands.

"I'm not saying goodbye," he said.

"Me neither." McCoy put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I'm just saying it was an honor and a blast. I regret some things, but if I had to do them all over, I guess I would -just for you. My friend."

He held Jim's arm a while longer, then walked past him.

Jim didn't turn. A moment later, he walked to the window. Spock was still there, under the sun.

"Th'yla," Jim whispered.

Spock couldn't have possibly heard, yet he raised his face just then. He stared at Jim's window for a moment, then he turned and started to walk away.

It was almost time for the ceremony.

* * *

Note: Gene Rodenberry mentioned Dr. McCoy's opposition to Jim's promotion in the novelization of ST The Motion Picture.

TBC


End file.
